I have no intention of putting forward yet another theory of composition for the work of Herodotos. This type of study is frequently unsatisfactory, as it tends to depend either on subjective judgements or on circular arguments regarding, for example, the date of composition of particular passages (‘this passage belongs to Herodotos' “developed style” and was therefore written later than such and such a passage occurring later on in the existing arrangement of the work’); alternatively it may tend to force the content of the History into some pre-selected mould, a glaring example of which procedure is ‘pedimental structure’ (Herodotos was not building a temple, and there is no reason why he should have felt symmetry to be a necessary feature of history); or it may establish some kind of moral canon to which Herodotos is alleged to have thought all history conformed.

Quintus Curtius' bold statement is more than tantalizing to the historian interested in Alexander's plans for the administration of his empire. If Curtius is correct in maintaining that Alexander established garrisons and founded cities throughout the territory he had conquered, then an examination of the location of his settlements as well as the composition of troops and colonists detailed to remain should suggest the nature of Alexander's policy. Furthermore, since garrisons were established from Asia Minor to India, changes in that policy should be revealed if ever his disposition of guards altered markedly.

This article deals with three aspects of Aristotle's account of absolute rule in the Politics: firstly, the extent of Aristotle's debt to and divergence from Plato; secondly, the exact nature of the qualities which fit a man for absolute rule; thirdly, the relevance of Aristotle's account of absolute rule to his general political principles. Ancient historians will be eagerly waiting for the name of Alexander. They will not be altogether disappointed but will have to be content with a few general and inconclusive remarks at the end.

Nearly eighty years ago W. M. Lindsay began his valuable little Introduction to Latin Textual Emendation with the observation that ‘There is no Latin author the study of whose text has at once such interest and such value for students of textual emendation as Plautus. For the text of Plautus is on the one hand not nearly so certain as the text of Virgil …, nor on the other so hopelessly uncertain as the text of Propertius … It is still full of difficulties, in spite of the labours of a large number of scholars for a large number of years, though each month … sees a difficulty removed … We may hope to attain before long to a completely satisfactory text’. These were optimistic words, and Lindsay himself, in his subsequent editions, first of the Captivi and then of the complete plays, did much to advance Plautine textual studies along the hopeful lines he prophesied.

For those who study the Roman conquest of Cisalpine Gaul — let it be said at once — there is little or no hope of writing an adequate historical account. To say this is not to disparage what has been done. The subject has been treated admirably, with full critical care, by scholars who combined intimate knowledge of the region with personal feeling for its importance in Italian history, in the light of Gallic social conditions and Roman policy and military methods — always with the reservation ‘as far as the recorded evidence allows’.

It is widely accepted that in the later books Livy to some extent discarded the highly archaizing and poeticizing style of the first decade, in which the events belonged to the remote past. But by no means all of the relevant evidence has been presented, and discussions of the question have also usually suffered from inadequacies of method. Now that Packard's Concordance has appeared, it is possible to give a more comprehensive treatment of the lexical evidence, though the difficulty of finding syntactic modifications in such a long work remains the same.

The period in Parthian history between Mithradates II and Phraates 111 is one about which very little is known. Events in West Asia were in turmoil with Rome's involvement becoming ever larger, but Parthia took little or no part in the wars between Rome and the allies, Pontus and Armenia. The reason for Parthia's inactivity can only be guessed. After a summary of recent developments in the understanding of early Parthian history we will give a reconstruction of events in Parthia and her non-involvement in West Asian affairs between 90 and 70 B.C. This is only one combination of possible explanations for the several problems.

In an article published in this journal several years ago, Dr B. Rawson put forward the suggestion that the temple of Hercules associated with Pompeius' building activity should be assigned to an early period in his career, either 79 or (more likely) about 70 B.C. If the latter, she connects it with a competition between Pompeius and Crassus to secure the mantle of military prowess as the heir of Sulla, manifest in the lavish sacrificial feast given by Crassus in 70 B.C. which she says he made at the festival of Hercules Invictus on 12 August, in thanks for the military success which the god had secured for him in the recent slave war, and which was designed to steal Pompeius' thunder as the games celebrating his Spanish victories were due to begin a few days later on 15 August (Cic. Verr. i 31).

Nobody has seriously questioned the proposition that the enmity between Clodius and Cicero dated from their clash over Clodius' impeachment for sacrilege at the Bona Dea Festival of 62 B.C., nor has anyone seriously doubted that the basic evidence on which an assessment of these events must rest is contained in the five letters of Cicero, ad Atticum i 12-16. The treatment of this evidence however has produced very divergent results; the purpose of this paper is to argue that the story told by these letters is clear, coherent and comprehensible, and that the conflict which developed was not based on psychological motivations (deep or otherwise) but on a conflict of dignitas.

The dichotomy between lover and poet; the relationship with comedy; the force of the metre: these are the considerations that have told most in recent years in the interpretation of Catullus' poem 8, Miser Catulle.

Wheeler, following Morris, takes the poem as a comic exercise. Fordyce, Fraenkel and Quinn think of it as a serious examination of the lover's internal conflict. Commager (‘if it would be foolish to deny the poem's comic overtones, it would be equally foolish to maintain that those are the only ones’) juggles with the two. One conviction that seems shared by most, however, is that the poem, in a sense, describes full circle, returning to its starting point.